


What Happened In Ethiopia

by Moe64



Series: These Are Our Crimes [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batman AU, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Jason Todd is Robin, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moe64/pseuds/Moe64
Summary: In an Alternate Universe where, before making the biggest mistake of his life, Jason Todd makes a phone call instead.Jason and Dick go to Ethiopia in search for Jason's birth mother. Let’s hope they can stay out of trouble.Story is a Prequel to These Were Their Crimes, but can be read in any order.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: These Are Our Crimes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647187
Comments: 49
Kudos: 156





	1. Dick Grayson

**Author's Note:**

> This again! This story will take place before the events of [These Were Their Crimes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/21667369), so you do not have to read that story first to understand it, but it is the story I wrote first and this story has been written as a prequel. 
> 
> Okay, I found I really loved this AU a lot and just couldn't leave it alone. Thank you all who read These Were Their Crimes and loved it, it was huge inspiration in posting not only this story, but my other works on here as well. Updates will hopefully be every week, but if my schedule gets busy, they may become every other!

#### October 04, 2017  
04:12  
Titans Tower, New York  


Dick almost doesn’t answer the phone. 

He had just gotten back to Titans Tower, an off-world mission cut short by a surprisingly simple solution to the problem that has the Bat part of Dick’s brain wondering if things were solved a little _too_ easily. He’s moments away from crashing on the first horizontal surface he can find, which luckily happens to be a couch, when the phone on the coffee table two feet away from him starts buzzing incessantly. 

Dick cracks an eye open just enough to confirm it’s his phone, which he vaguely remembers tossing on the table after a brief message to Alfred informing the older man that he was leaving before racing to grab his Nightwing gear. The thought of Alfred reminds Dick that he has to call the older man and tell him that he’s back. Which could easily be done after his nap, but if he answers now, he won’t have to press as many buttons and the thought on mustering enough energy to dial a number is enough to make Dick reach out and flip the phone up to his ear without checking caller ID. 

“Lo?” he asks, eyes once again closed and mouth too sleepy to form two-syllable words. 

“You’re eighteen, right?” A rough voice asks, almost quiet. Dick’s eyes fly open in an instant. 

“Jason?” Dick says, adrenaline now coursing through his veins. It’s silent on the other end of the line and Dick replays the scratchy wet tone of the younger boy in his head over and over again. He sounded hurt. Or like he was crying. Or crying and hurt and – 

“It’s just, they said I couldn’t board without paperwork or an adult and I just thought . . . you’re eighteen. You know?” Jason’s voice is stronger now but almost . . . fragile. Dick’s heart is tight at the sound. 

“Jason, what are you talking about? Yes, I’m eighteen,” Dick says, words tumbling out of his mouth. When Jason doesn’t immediately respond, Dick continues with, 

“Are you okay? Where are you?” He races for the keys to the jet. Dick sees Wonder Girl poke her head into the room as he rushes by, a worried look etched on her face. 

“I’m fine,” Jason finally snaps, and he sounds irritated now. “It’s stupid. They’re making a big deal out of this whole unaccompanied minor thing which is _stupid_ because it’s not like you’re some shiny example of adulthood. You can barely use a freaking microwave. If I told them what I’ve seen you do in the kitchen they probably wouldn’t even let you on the plane which is fine by me. And god, Dick. You need to separate your clothes; you can’t just throw them all in the washing machine and run them under cold water!” 

Jason’s whine has completely disappeared, and he almost shouts the last words. Dick’s brain spins, and he thinks it’s sleep deprivation, but it also might be the absurdity of being called at, he checks the clock, 4:12 AM to be yelled at about his laundry habits. Then Dick’s brain finally pulls out the relevant information from the tirade. 

“Unaccompanied minor?” he asks. Jason huffs regretfully on the other end of the line. 

“You know what?” he asks, his voice hard with anger and irritation is bubbling in Dick’s stomach. “This was a mistake. Never mind,” he snaps viciously. 

It takes everything in Dick not to slam the phone shut, ending the call as soon as the anger had started. “Wait,” he cuts in instead. He hears silence on the other end of the line, but it isn’t the dial tone of a dead line. 

“Jason what’s going on? Are you at the airport?” _Does Bruce know where you are?_ he wants to ask but he has a feeling it’s not a question that will be appreciated. 

A dramatic sigh. “Yes, dickhead, I’m at the airport, where else do you board a plane?” Dick finds the spare keys to the jet and wags them at Donna whose curiosity has now blossomed into concern and brought her to the room. She holds out her hand for them and after only a short moment of debate he hands them over. 

“Jason, what’s going on, talk to me,” Dick says, following Donna to the hanger. 

There is still silence on the other end of the phone and even as Dick climbs into the jet to take off toward Gotham, absolutely no idea what is happening except that Jason sounds angry and sad and _hurt_ , he has to check the phone multiple times to make sure the younger boy didn’t just hang up on him. 

He didn’t. 

The jet about to take off when Jason finally whispers, 

“Dick, can you just come to Gotham airport? I . . . I need you.” 

“I’m already on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re off!


	2. Jason Todd

#### October 04, 2016  
06:20  
Gotham Airport, Gotham

It takes less than an hour to get from Titans Tower in New York to Gotham Airport, but Dick feels like he just closed his eyes when Donna shakes him awake to tell him that they arrived, cleared for landing on the tarmac. 

“Dick, you’ll call if you need anything, right?” Donna asks, arms folded across her chest and eyebrows pulled together in worry. Dick hadn’t been able to supply her with much information after Jason hung up, mostly because the younger boy had refused to supply _him_ with much information, and Donna hadn’t exactly been assured at Dick’s attempts to downplay the situation. It was probably because as much as he told Donna everything was fine and he had this handled, worry and panic spiked his voice up an octave and his heart slammed in his chest, making him stutter over some words. He had finally resigned himself to a small nap in exchange for Donna leaving the situation up to him. Dick gives her an easy smile that only looks a little forced. 

“Of course,” he says, grabbing the go bag he keeps on the plane in case of emergencies. “Don’t worry about me.” The pair exchange a quick hug. “And Donna?” Dick asks as he climbs down from the Jet. “Thanks.” 

Donna gives him a small smile. “Be safe,” she says seriously and Dick’s smile falters for only a moment before he can pull it even wider. 

“Yes, mom.” Donna rolls her eyes and shoves him the last way out of the plane. 

Dick doesn’t even bother calling Jason when he gets to the airport. He had checked the tracking app Bruce installed on all of their phones, only to find Jason’s dismantled, last known location still blinking back at the Manor. Instead, Dick uses the number Jason called him from to track him to the Help Desk at EgyptAir, rounding the corner into the International Gate of Gotham Airport only to immediately spot Jason who was arguing with the clerk working the desk, a petite blond woman doing an admiral job of masking the irritated look growing on her face. 

Dick jogs over. 

“Jason,” he calls when he gets close enough and he watches Jason’s muscle go tense at the sound of his voice. The clerk’s eyes flicker over to him and Dick flashes a high wattage smile. The clerk seems to relax, concluding that she might actually get to talk to someone sane. Jason doesn’t turn around. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Dick says when Jason still doesn’t move or even, Jesus, _look_ over at him. “What seems to be the problem, miss?” Dick asks, hoping the smile of his face hasn’t turned stiff with tension. Jason folds his arms and glares at the floor. 

“Are you over eighteen, sir?” the clerk asks, eyebrows pulling up and giving Dick a once over that clearly indicated her suspicions were not assuaged. 

“Yes ma’am,” Dick says. 

“And you’ll be accompanying Mr. Walker to Tel Aviv?” The clerk asks and only years of training allows Dick to reply without stuttering: 

“Of course.” He pulls his emergency passport from his bag. _Why the heck is Jason trying to go to Israel?_ And the use of an alias Dick doesn’t recognize confirms his suspicion that this isn’t a Bruce-sanctioned mission. Dick tries to catch Jason’s eye as the clerk looks over his passport and what looks to Dick like a fake Irish passport, running a credit card Dick assumes Jason gave her before printing out two tickets. Jason does an admiral job of completely ignoring him during the entire process. 

The clerk purses her lips before handing back their passports and tickets, suspicion falling way to worry as she glances at Jason. 

“You boys know each other?” the clerk asks, eyes flickering up to Dick when Jason stays glaring at the floor. Dick manages to pull his face into another smile, and he can see now the clerk has been won over. 

“We’re brothers,” Dick assures her as he takes the passports and tickets back from the woman, still unsure if he actually wants to use them. Jason has some explaining to do. The clerk gives him a soft smile, decidedly not hearing Jason mutter darkly under his breath that they most certainly are _not_ related. Dick pretends he doesn’t hear it either. 

Turning away, Jason snatches his passport and ticket from Dick’s grip before the older boy can react. 

“Thanks for the assist, dickhead. You can go now,” the younger boy turns toward security before Dick catches his arm. 

“Oh no. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about,” Dick says, tightening his grip when Jason tries to wriggle out from under his grasp. Jason scowls up at him. 

“What do you care?” he snaps and there is something severe enough in his glare that Dick’s grip falters. Jason wrenches his arm away in the moment of weakness but doesn’t storm off again toward security. 

Dick sighs, rubbing his temples. “Listen, Jason. I have gotten less than one hour of sleep in the past two days,” he starts, his voice hard. Dick sees Jason’s back rise at his tone, but he can’t keep the words pressed behind his teeth. “So just tell me what the hell is going on before I call Alfred.” 

Dick hadn’t really wanted to activate the nuclear option so soon, but it must have been the right thing to say because the anger in Jason’s eyes turns to fear and he stills at the threat, finally looking Dick in the eyes. 

The anger releases from Dick immediately as he starts taking in Jason’s appearance. Bags under his red-rimmed eyes make his usually tanned skin look pale and he shifts from foot to foot, twitching his fingers and unable to remain still for long. 

Dick sighs, running his hand through his hair. Now that the anger is gone, he just feels tired. He closes his eyes. “Jason, I care, okay?” 

Jason glances away again, but his shoulders drop and when he speaks, anger has drained from his own voice. “Yeah, okay.” 

Dick waits for more, but Jason doesn’t continue and the two make their way over to security. It isn’t until the pair are on the plane, Dick’s eyes falling closed as he leans back into his seat when Jason finally speaks. 

“I’m looking for my mom.” 

Dick forces himself to crack one eye open. Jason glares at the seat in front of him, body stiff, but he has his legs pulled to his chest in a way that almost makes him look . . . vulnerable. 

“Catherine?” Dick asks slowly. He’s pretty sure Catherine Todd is dead, an overdose when Jason was nine, leaving him to fend for himself on the streets of Gotham for the next three years. Jason stiffens at the name. 

“No,” he spits out. “My birth mom. An old neighbor gave me a box of things from my house and I found my birth certificate,” Jason says, voice like poison. “Catherine isn’t my real mom,” the words twist in Jason’s mouth. 

Dick tries to process this information carefully, noting the venomous tone. Jason feels like a grenade, likely to go off if Dick says even the semblance of the wrong thing and really, he’s far too tired to deal with this conversation right now. 

“And she’s in Israel?” he decides on, feeling like the question is a safe one. Jason doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t grow more tense either. 

“She might be,” Jason finally says, and his voice _is_ softer now. “I narrowed it down to three possibilities. The name on my birth certificate wasn’t exactly readable.” 

“How did you narrow it down,” Dick asks, sitting up in his seat a little more. Jason’s body grows stiff again. 

“Why?” Jason spits out, anger returning full force. “Think I made a mistake?” 

Dick stifles a groan. He really is too tired to deal with Jason and his explosive temper right now. “It was just a question,” he snaps back. 

Jason folds his arms and turns as much away from Dick as he can in his seat. 

They spend the rest of the fourteen-hour flight in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't going to be a direct retelling of _A Death in the Family_. Mostly because Dick is here, but also because I'm not interested in doing that. So things will diverge from cannon soon. 
> 
> Also, Jason's feelings about Catherine/Sheila will be explored a bit in later chapters.


	3. Sharmin Rosen

#### October 05, 2016  
05:40  
Windsor Hotel, Israel

Dick wakes up to a flight attendant’s soft hand on his shoulder, the seat next to him already vacant. 

He finds Jason trying to order a cab on the street corner. 

“Thanks for waking me up,” Dick says, while Jason snags a map from a tourist stand and starts looking over it. 

Jason shrugs. “You said you needed to sleep, and I figured you could just get a ticket back to Gotham at the gate,” he says without looking up. 

Dick rips the map out of Jason’s hands. 

“What the hell, _dick_?” Jason snaps, glaring up at the older boy. 

“Can we cool it with the sly insults and snappy comebacks? You called me. I’m here. Let me help,” Dick snaps, trying to soften his glare into something more akin to a stern gaze. He isn’t sure it works, but Jason’s shoulders seem to drop slightly until finally the younger boy glances away. 

“Why don’t we go to the hotel and figure out our next move?” Dick suggests gently. A plan. That’s what they needed. Without Bruce here, Dick figured it was his responsibility to at least try to add an objective element to this little adventure. 

Jason hesitates. Dick sighs. 

“Why don’t I book us a hotel and then we can go there and figure out our next move?” he corrects. This time Jason just nods, the slump in his shoulders saying he’s no longer planning on objecting to Dick’s involvement. The stiffness of his back says he’s still not happy with it. Dick will take it. 

Turns out, money can get you a lot of things, including a last-minute reservation at a nice hotel in Tel Aviv, not a five-minute drive from the airport. Jason gave Dick more details in the car. 

Sharmin Rosen emigrated to Israel not long after Jason’s birth. She was fair skinned, with dark hair, and had enough physical resemblance to Jason to make Dick start to believe that there was a fair shot at this woman actually being Jason’s birth mom. There was just one problem. 

“She works for Mossad?” Dick winces. Jason nods. The cab driver raises and eyebrow and his eyes quickly flicker to the review mirror and Dick lowers his voice. 

“Do you know where she’s stationed?” he whispers. Jason takes the hint and leans closer. 

“No,” he says quietly. “That’s problem one.” 

“Oh god there’s a numbered list,” Dick groans theatrically. Jason rolls his eyes and Dick has to fight a smile. He seems to have accepted Dick’s involvement now and the release of tension in his shoulders could be relief. Or it could be Dick projecting. 

“I figured we could try to go through the proper channels but . . .” Jason trails off and Dick grimaces. 

“It’s unlikely they will reveal the location of one of their operatives,” he agrees. Jason’s face falls a little like he was hoping Dick would have a different answer. 

“But,” Dick starts again, mind whirling. The jet lag must be messing with his brain. “They should have her DNA on file, if she’s an agent. We can compare it to your DNA and if it’s a relative match, then we worry about tracking her down.” 

Jason raises an eyebrow at Dick, unimpressed. “This leaves us with the same problem of accessing those files, dickhead.” 

Dick rolls his eyes. “You say problem, I say Bruce is a paranoid asshole.” Dick eyes the driver now who doesn’t seem to be paying them any mind. Still he lowers his voice even more. “He has back doors into almost all the intelligence agencies. Lucky for you, I have a computer with Cave access in my bag.” 

Now Jason’s eyebrow curves impressively. The corners of his mouth twitch up. He looks almost . . . happy. Excited. More like a fifteen-year-old boy and Dick’s stomach twists suddenly with guilt. 

“Speaking of Bruce though,” Dick starts, knowing he is about to ruin a moment. Jason’s face falls into a hard line at the name. “You have to let him know where you are, Jason,” Dick tries to make the words sound gentle, but Jason stiffens at them. 

“Why?” Jason spits venomously and Dick is so aware that he missed some greater argument here. He’s spent two years avoiding Jason and Bruce’s relationship, he really didn’t want to wade into the middle of it now. 

“He’s going to get worried when he sees you disabled your phone tracker,” a sharp turn of Jason’s head tells Dick the younger boy didn’t know he knew about that. “Tell me you at least left a note.” 

Jason folds his arms and leans back in the seat, looking for all the world like a surly teenager. It makes Dick remind himself that the kid is _fifteen_. “I told Alf that I was staying at a friend’s,” he mutters under his breath. 

Dick would bet money that Jason 'told' Alfred this in a note. And that the older man hadn’t bought it for a minute. 

“Besides,” Jason starts again, voice stronger. “It’s not like Bruce would care.” Dick has to do a double take on that. He really had missed some larger argument. And god does he not want to get involved in whatever the two are fighting about. He has enough issues with Bruce without adding Jason’s to his plate. 

“If you don’t, I will,” Dick says and even though he means it as a threat, Jason seems to treat it as an offer and relaxes. 

“Whatever,” the boy mutters. 

When they finally get to the hotel and enter the room, Jason immediately collapses on the closer bed, throwing his bag unceremoniously into the corner. Dick places his own bag down more carefully and pulls out his laptop, setting in next to Jason. When he gets up the energy, he can start the search. Dick has a phone call he’s already dreading to make. 

Bruce picks up on the fifth ring, like he was debating taking the call at all. Not a great start. 

“I thought you were off world?” Bruce says in lieu of a greeting. So, Bruce was keeping tabs on him. Not that Dick thought he wouldn’t he just . . . he wasn’t sure. 

“We got back yesterday,” Dick says easily. He settles onto the foot of the far bed. No need for this conversation to be uncomfortable in more than one way. 

“Is there something wrong?” Bruce asks when Dick doesn’t continue. Dick doesn’t call Bruce unless there’s something wrong. Actually, Dick doesn’t call Bruce. Period. Or that would have been the case a year ago. Most of Dick and Bruce's communication is still through Alfred, despite the butler’s best passive aggressive hints that he is in no way affiliated with the US postal service and is not interested in passing along messages. Except recently, in the last few months, Dick _has_ called. He’s stopped by the Manor. He’s taken Jason out with the Titans. There’s still a host of issues swimming between the pair but their relationship doesn’t seem as hopeless as it once did. 

“I just wanted to let you know that Jason is with me,” Dick says lightly. It was a tone he wouldn’t have been able to fake a year ago. “So, you don’t freak out when he isn’t at the Manor.” 

“Jason’s not at the Manor?” Bruce asks, voice ringing with panic. Dick narrows his eyes. 

“You didn’t notice? Lack of cursing? No broken vases? Empty chair across from you at dinner?” Jason pops his head up on the couch, mouth in a hard line. Great. 

Bruce hesitates on the other end of the line. “I’m not at the Manor,” he reveals. “I had to go out of town . . . on business.” Batman stuff. 

“Business conference?” Dick asks. League stuff. 

“No,” Bruce says. He hesitates more, as if unsure how much he wants to reveal. But they’re trying. Two years of angry non-phone calls intermingled with bitter silence, and now these last few months of, well . . . something better. Anger is such an exhausting emotion to hold on to and too much time has passed for Dick not to reflect on his own actions as well. And not just toward Bruce. 

The other end of the line is still quiet. Bruce wants to share more. Because Dick called. And they’re trying. 

When Bruce speaks again, his voice is so soft Dick can barely hear him. 

“I’m tracking a lead on the Joker.” 

Dick is ramrod straight at the foot of the bed. 

“Alone? Listen, B, I can – “ 

“No,” a forceful voice cuts him off and Dick has to push down his irritation. He’s about to argue when Bruce speaks again. 

“Please, Dick, I need – “Bruce’s voice has taken on a desperate tone and words die in Dick’s throat. “I’m following his finances. I shouldn’t need back-up, but I will call if I do. For now, though,” Bruce sucks in a breath. “I just need to know the two of you are safe.” 

Dick glances out the window of the hotel room, yellow lights stretching before him in a foreign city, so far from home. 

“Yeah, Bruce. We’re fine,” Dick lies. The words feel heavy on his tongue and he can feel Bruce hesitating on the other end, wanting to trust him. 

“You’ll watch out for Jason until I get back?” Bruce asks and Dick has to force himself not to glance over at the younger boy, though he can feel Jason’s eyes boring into his back. 

“Of course,” Dick promises. 

“That went well,” Jason says when Dick has hung up, eyebrow raised in a way that would make saying ‘I told you so’ redundant. Dick glares at him. 

“You get to take the next call,” Dick says passing over his phone, number already pulled up on the screen. Jason takes it and pales. Desperate eyes flicker up to Dick’s. Dick shakes his head. 

“Your mess, your clean-up,” Dick says, snatching his computer away from Jason. Jason already has a search running through Mossad database. 

Dick listens in while Jason gives an equally vague explanation to Alfred over the phone, only speaking to call out to the older man to verify Jason’s story since the butler still thought Dick was off world. He tries not to take perverse pleasure when Jason winces at whatever the older man says over the phone and lets out a string of apologies. 'Tries' being the operative word. 

By the time Jason gets off the phone, Dick is already running the comparison analysis on the DNA samples on file. Jason comes to awkwardly hover behind him. 

Dick hands over the computer readily and Jason hesitates before taking it, either the phone call with Alfred or the results being so close have subdued to younger boy and he looks nervous. And scared. 

“You know Bruce cares, right?” Dick says when the silence has stretched on for too long in the room. Jason doesn’t even react to his words. 

Finally, he shrugs. “Yeah, okay,” he says in a tone that sounds entirely unconvinced. Dick sighs. He wants to grab Jason’s shoulders and shake him, yelling, _‘he adopted you!’_ But he can’t. 

He just can’t. 

Half an hour later, the computer dings with the result. 

Dick doesn’t need to see the screen. He just watches Jason’s face. 

He sighs. Alright. Time to see what's behind door number two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reoccurring theme I did not know I was instigating: Jason breaking vases. 
> 
> Now that I'm aware of it, I can only assume it will get worse.


	4. Sandra Wu

#### October 05, 2016  
18:45  
Still Tel Aviv, Israel

“An assassin?” Dick repeats, voice flat and questioning, hoping more than anything that Jason will correct him. And he does. 

“A _mercenary_ ,” Jason says. Not. Helpful. 

Dick runs a hand through his hair. A Mossad agent and an assassin. Of course. “How did you even figure out she was in Lebanon?” Dick asks wearily. Lebanon wasn’t far, in fact it was blessedly close. He assumes this is why Jason travelled to Israel first, but Dick wasn’t looking forward to blindly flying to Lebanon in the hopes of accidentally running into a world class _mercenary_. 

Jason shrugs. “Bat-computer,” he says easily, because _of course_. Dick pauses. Wait. _Of course_. 

“Bruce has a file on her?” Dick asks. _Of course_ , Bruce would have a file on a mercenary who likely came to Gotham. She must have some ties to Gotham or why would she be in Willis Todd’s address book? 

Jason nods and grabs Dick’s computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. He flips the screen back around when he’s done. 

“Lady Shiva?” Dick reads. There are holes in this file. Dick can tell just by looking at it, though he suspects Jason doesn’t have the sharp eye he does for when Bruce is trying to hide information. He scans the sparse dossier. No DNA profile. They weren’t likely to get lucky in that department again. Brief biographical information – just enough to confirm a facial ID. Last known location updated two months back. Bruce was keeping a close eye on her. Yeah, there’s no way in hell he’s taking Jason to Lebanon to find this lady. 

“I say we go to Beirut first,” Jason is saying as Dick’s mind spins. “All the shady players know each other over here – “ 

“No,” Dick interrupts suddenly. Jason glances over in surprise at first but when he takes in Dick’s expression, his face flushes with fury. He opens his mouth. “Wait, just think about it,” Dick rushes to continue quickly. _Yeah, Dick. Think about it_. 

“You found these women in Willis’ contacts, right?” Dick says, thinking fast. Jason pauses warily but gives Dick a terse nod. “So, Willis worked with Two-Face,” he continues. “Two-Face isn’t above hiring mercenaries. Sandra Wu is more likely than not a professional contact. Who’s the last name on the list?” Dick asks. 

Jason is still regarding him nervously. “Sheila Haywood,” Jason starts slowly. “She’s an aid doctor in Ethiopia. But – “ 

Dick snaps his fingers, cutting Jason off. “See? It’s far less likely Willis has the number of a non-profit doctor in his contacts than a mercenary. He has known ties to the criminal underworld, but why would he have the number of an aid doctor unless it was personal?” 

He can tell by Jason’s face that he’s only half-buying Dick’s reasoning. Dick’s actually pretty convinced of it himself now that he’s said it out loud. After a second’s hesitation, Jason shakes his head. 

“No, we’re so close to Lebanon,” Jason argues. “Ethiopia is in the other direction.” 

Dick shrugs. “Not by much. Considering whenever the next flights leave, it probably won’t even make a difference.” Dick is _really_ buying his own argument now. Jason looks entirely unconvinced, own determination growing. 

“No.” Jason shakes his head again. “Sandra Wu first, then Ethiopia.” 

Dick sighs. “Jason –“ 

Jason leaps off the bed, cutting Dick off. “Don’t you get it, Dick? This woman could be my _real_ mom!” 

There’s something about the way he twists the word ‘real.’ 

“I’m not saying she isn’t!” Dick protests. He’s losing control of this conversation – and fast. “Sheila Haywood could be too. I’m only trying to – trying to maximize our resources,” Dick scrambles. The second he meets Jason’s eyes he knows he said the wrong thing. Jason pushes from the bed in disgust, fast twisting in scorn. 

“ _Maximize our resources_ ,” Jason mocks. “You – you’re just like him!” Jason shouts. “This isn’t a fucking mission! This is my _mom_.” 

Dick leaps off the bed too and his mouth opens, ready to spit the words that grow like bile in his throat, but his eyes catch something in the corners of Jason’s eyes. Tears. 

“I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Jason snarls and Dick gives two slow blinks, anger simmering in his chest. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dick asks, voice hard and now what Dick thought were tears seems only to be a feral glint in Jason’s glare. 

“You don’t get it, Dick. How could you?” Jason’s voice is cold itself now and Dick stills at the tone. “Do you have any idea what it’s _like_? To find out someone’s only been pretending to be your mother your whole life? Pretending to love you?” And Jason’s tone cracks at the end and anger leaves Dick’s body in an instant, replaces by cold guilt that chills his bones. 

The crazy thing is – Dick _does_ know what that’s like. Or, hell. Maybe he doesn’t. Bruce had never really pretended, had he? He’d never adopted Dick. Never called himself a dad. He had always insisted that Dick was his ward, hadn’t he? Maybe not to Dick’s face but at all those stupid charity galas he’d had to attend. To the courts. To the reporters. 

Bruce adopted Jason within eight months. It’s been eight _years_ since Dick first set foot in Wayne Manor. 

Dammit. No. This is exactly what Dick _didn’t_ want to do. Exactly what he’s been guilty of doing during nearly all of Jason’s tenure as Robin. Dick couldn’t keep letting his anger at Bruce spill over into other relationships. With Barbara. With Jason. 

Jason flinches back as he watches the anger crumple from Dick’s face and the older boy runs a hand through his hair before letting out a long sigh. 

“Shit, Jason. I’m sorry.” Dick says when he gets control of his breathing. Jason’s anger has faded now too, and he watches the older boy warily. 

“It’s fine,” Jason mumbles after a beat of silence. Dick manages a thin smile. 

“No, it’s not,” he says. “You’re right. I don’t know,” Dick manages to keep anything resembling bitterness out of those words. “And I shouldn’t take out my anger on you. I wasn’t trying to trivialize why we’re here. You’re right. This isn’t a mission.” 

Jason’s doesn’t meet Dick’s gaze, but he settles back onto the bed, arms crossed closely to his chest. 

“No, it’s fine, really. And you’re right,” Jason grumbles. “It makes more sense to go to Ethiopia.” 

Dick settles back down now too. “Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly. “Because Beirut isn’t a bad – “ 

“Dick,” Jason cuts off, finally meeting Dick’s gaze. He looks exasperated, with no hint of anger. “You’re right. I was being dumb. We should go to Ethiopia.” 

There is a full minute of silence in the room and Dick almost lets it suffocate him, stifle the words on the tip on his tongue. Instead, he glances over at Jason as the boy lays back and stares absently at the ceiling. 

“Jason,” Dick starts tentatively. “About Catherine,” Jason tenses suddenly at the words. “She’s still your mom, you know,” he finishes lamely. Jason is a statue. 

Dick isn’t sure how much time passes while Jason lays there, stiff and unmoving but finally he rolls over, so his back is to Dick. “Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. 

Dick sighs, reaching out and snatching his laptop off the bed and settling back into the soft pillows. He was out of his depth. 

By the time Dick selects and purchases two tickets to Ethiopia, flight dauntingly early the next day, deep breaths indicate Jason has already fallen asleep. Dick settles down so his own back is flat against the mattress and he stares for a while at the ceiling, listening to Jason breathe. 

He doesn’t know what he is doing here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. It's been hard writing Jason and Dick more antagonistic but they haven't gotten as close as they are during These Were Their Crimes yet. Also, it was just hard writing this chapter in general, articulating both Jason and Dick's feelings about everything. Hopefully I was able to at least do a semblance of a decent job.


	5. Sheila Haywood

#### October 07, 2016  
12:55  
Outside of Magdala, Ethiopia

The uneven and bumpy jeep ride to a remote outpost outside of Magdala was doing little to quell the nausea that churned in Jason’s stomach, nausea that grew as they drew closer and closer to the refugee camp where Sheila Haywood was supposed to be stationed. He would actually die before admitting it, but he was glad Dick was with him. 

The nerves in his stomach feel more like he has swallowed a brick and all of his concentration is focused on keeping the bile in his throat down. 

His nerves are worse than last time, during those seemingly never-ending minutes while he waited for the DNA test to run through on Dick’s laptop. Jason’s hands are clammy. He forces himself to breathe hard through his nose in fear that opening his mouth would result in the content of his stomach coming right back up. 

God it’s hot in the desert. It is hot, right? 

“Jason?” Dick asks from the seat next to him, concern dripping from his voice. Jason doesn’t want to look over, afraid that the older boy will see right through him. “You okay?” Dick asks slowly. 

“Fine,” Jason says quickly, teeth snapping back together as his stomach heaves. Jason can feel Dick stiffen next to him and as much as he wants to apologize, he can’t talk. 

Dick drops it. 

It just makes Jason feel more miserable. 

Dick is trying. _Really_ trying. Hell, he flew halfway around the world with Jason at the drop of a hat because Jason didn’t have the foresight to fudge the age on his fake passport. He wants to ask what the hell Dick is doing here but he’s pretty sure the older boy will just give him some bullshit answer about them being family or something. 

As if Bruce cared about Jason. As if Jason could ever live up to the perfect Robin. As if he was ever _really_ a part of the family. 

A part of Jason protests at these thoughts but it’s easy enough to let anger and bitterness shove that voice down. 

The truck pulls up to the aid outpost and Dick climbs easily out from his side of the jeep. _Move. Dammit just move._ Jason’s hands shake as they reach for the door. He grits his teeth and pushes them forward, yanking on the handle and throwing himself out of the vehicle before he could make a scene. 

Jason nearly faceplants it on the rough sand. 

“Woah,” Dick says. Reaching out to steady Jason. Jason pushes off and pulls himself upright, cheeks heating. “You sure you good?” Dick asks again, brows pinching together in that damn worried look that makes guilt rise in Jason’s chest. 

“Fine,” Jason mumbles. “Just. The door. And sand,” he says lamely. Dick’s eyes are tinged with worry, but he doesn’t press, instead just giving a quiet nod. 

Jason wants to tell Dick how glad he is that the older boy is here. Instead, he just bites his tongue. 

“Medical tents look like they’re this way,” Dick says, pausing for a moment so that Jason can collect himself. 

He follows after Dick in a daze. 

What if she wasn’t here? Or worse, what if she _was_? 

Was Jason just supposed to ask this woman if she’s his mother? Has he really thought this through? 

He barely hears when Dick stops to ask a man with a clipboard where Sheila Haywood is. This is stupid. She might not even _be_ his mother. It could be Sandra Wu. It could be neither of them, the woman’s name long since stricken from the pages of Willis Todd’s contacts. He needs to calm down. He should be excited. 

Why isn’t he excited? 

“You ready?” Dick asks when they come up to a non-descript tent, no different from any of the others that line the camp. 

_No_. 

“Yeah,” he says, and Dick pulls back the flap. 

There is a blond woman inside, leaning over some papers and in deep discussion with a thin man, a nervous expression on his face. 

“Aj, aj,” the woman snaps and the man is shaking his head. Both look up as the two boys enter the tent. 

Dick glances over but Jason’s tongue feels like it weighs a ton. 

“Er, Sheila Haywood?” Dick asks. Her eyes. Jason sees them as they flicker up to Dick and then over to Jason. 

He sees those eyes every time he looks in the mirror. 

“Yes,” the woman responds hesitantly, suspicion strong in her voice. “Can I help you?” she asks. 

Jason steps forward, the nerves in his stomach washed away, heartbeat remarkably calm. 

“My name’s Jason,” he says, surprised his voice comes out level, soft even. “Jason Todd,” he says. 

“Wha – Todd?” Sheila repeats, voice sounding distant. The man next to her takes his cue and slips from the tent. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, gripping the chair next to her. Jason can feel a grin that he can’t stop growing on his face. 

“Hi,” he says weakly. 

“You’re – Willis – _Jason_?” Sheila says, a dazed look still in her eyes. 

Sheila takes a half step forward before pausing, arms twitching at her side. Jason watches the movement for a moment before lurching into the action himself. He doesn’t hold back. He wraps his arms around Sheila Haywood and for a split second, when she tenses, Jason’s heart lurches in his throat. But then she returns the hug. 

“Oh my God,” she says again, voice hoarse. 

“I’ll just . . . give you two a moment,” Dick says, voice already retreating as he slips back out of the tent. Jason twists to he can catch Dick’s eye on the way out and there’s so many things he wishes he could say. 

_You don’t have to go._

_I couldn’t have done this without you._

_I’m glad you’re here._

_Thank you._

Dick gives him a sad soft smile and mouths that he’ll be back, eyes seeming to pick up on all the unspoken words. 

Finally, Sheila pulls away from him. “Wow,” she says cupping his face. “Jason . . . I –“ She pauses. “I didn’t think – “ she cuts herself off again. 

Jason shrugs. “I uh, found my birth certificate about a week ago,” he explains when she seems at a loss for words. She stands before him a little awkwardly now, almost nervous. “I hope you don’t mind.” 

Sheila frowns. “No. No. I don’t, uh, mind,” she says, motioning for him to take a seat. “Does – does Willis know. . .?” 

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up. “Willis is dead,” he says bluntly. Sheila’s eyes go wide and a devastated look ripples across her face. Jason curses himself for the lack of tact in the delivery. 

“Sorry,” he adds after a moment, hoping for something genuine to leech into his voice. He’s not completely sure he manages it. 

Sheila appears to steel herself a second later. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised,” she says finally, voice even if a little detached. “He was always running with one crowd or another.” 

Jason glances away. 

“Catherine?” Sheila asks after a moment, a strange hesitation in her voice. Jason keeps his gaze on the floor and manages a shrug. 

“Overdose,” he says. His throat feels tight and he forces himself to look up, managing a small smile on his face. “I was actually adopted by Bruce Wayne,” he says. 

Sheila’s eyebrows shoot up. “Bruce Wayne the billionaire?” she asks like he could mean anyone else. Jason can’t help the fond smile that spreads on his face. 

“Yeah,” is all he says. Sheila studies him for a moment before letting a smile creep across her own face. It looks a little like relief. 

“Sounds like you did well for yourself, then,” she says wistfully, and the smile is dragged from Jason’s lips. There’s something about the way she says that that rubs him the wrong way, irritation growing like a rash under his skin, but Sheila just laughs lightly and shakes her head. 

“And that boy you were with?” she asks, nodding to where Dick exited the tent. 

Jason hesitates. “My brother,” he says only because it’s just easier to explain it that way and Dick isn’t there to hold it over his head. Tension drops from Sheila’s shoulders and she settles back into her chair. 

“I was a struggling med student when I met your father,” she starts, voice somber. “Just after you were born, I got into trouble when an operation I was assisting on got botched. It wasn’t my fault, but it put an end to my medical career back in the states. Willis was supposed to come and join me in London when I got settled down, but . . .” she trails off, eyes distant. Then she gives a cool shrug. “He fell in love with a Catherine Johnson. They married and wanted to raise you as their own. I didn’t have enough money for any sort of custody battle and . . .” she shrugs again. 

Jason’s throat squeezes. He wonders, for a moment what his life would have been like, growing up in London, the son of a doctor, rather than on the streets of Gotham, an orphan of a two-bit criminal. He wouldn’t have been out on the streets at ten years old, boosting cars and worrying about where his next meal was going to come from. He wouldn’t have had to spend cold nights in the corner of whatever building he could find that best blocked the windchill. 

He wouldn’t have met Bruce. 

Jason shakes off the thoughts. 

“I finally –“ Sheila is cut off when a man comes back into the tent, the thin man from earlier. He has a worried expression on his face. 

“Doctor Sheila,” the man says, English accented. “There is a man here to see you about the shipments. It is very important,” he explains in a rush, eyes darting to Jason and back again. Sheila stands, brow wrinkling at the worry on the man’s face. 

“Yes, of course,” she says. “Jason can you wait here?” she asks, turning to him and there is a nervousness in her eyes, but Jason doesn’t know if it’s about the meeting or about the worry that when she returns, he’ll be gone. 

He’d like to think, just for a moment, that it’s the latter. 

“Of course,” he says with a smile and when the worry fades, he feels a warm feeling in his stomach that he doesn’t know what to do with. It sort of reminds him of the feeling he got when Bruce first took him to the Manor. Or when Alfred makes him a warm cup of tea. When Dick finally gave him the Robin uniform – even if it was only symbolic at that point. 

And then Sheila is gone, and Jason is alone in the tent. 

Part of him wonders if he should go and find Dick but . . . he doesn’t want to find Dick. For some reason the idea of looking at Dick right now makes guilt bubble inside Jason and he doesn’t like the feeling. He pulls his knees up into his chest and rests his chin on them. 

Sheila Haywood is his mother. 

Like his _real_ mother. 

She gave birth to him. Was probably the first person to ever hold him. God, did she _name_ him? He wonders if she bought him his childhood blanket. If she bought him anything before having to leave for England. 

He wonders if she sang him to sleep, like Catherine used to. 

Jason has this sudden urge to tell Sheila – no, his _mom_ – everything about his life. About what it was like growing up in Gotham. About his annoying second grade teacher who always mispronounced his last name – and how do you screw up ‘Todd’ unless you were _trying_ to pronounce it wrong? 

He wants to tell her about the girl he has a crush on and how he just finished reading Wuthering Heights for his Literature class. He wants to tell her about Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Robin . . . 

_He wants to tell her about Robin._

Shit. This is – this is his mom. He _has_ to tell her about Robin, right? She has to know what she’s getting herself into. And – and besides. Jason doesn’t _want_ to keep Robin a secret. He’s not sure he could. 

And this is his _mom_. 

That warm feeling in his chest definitely isn’t going away and Jason finds himself relaxing into it. This is his mom. 

Jason lets a smile creep across his face. Alone, in the tent, somewhere in Ethiopia, Jason feels like laughing. His heart is pounding but it’s no longer with nerves or worry. For the first time in a really long time, Jason feels calm. 

So, he watches the entrance to the tent. And waits for his mom to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not sure Sheila's character has even been really explored in canon extensively so I kind of took some liberties here. I didn't want to make her a complete jerk, because obviously she doesn't raise any alarm bells for Jason or Dick (or Bruce in the actual comics) but I wanted to maybe play with the idea that she could just sort of, turn her emotions off? Or steel herself against them pretty easily? So hopefully that makes sense. 
> 
> Young Hopeful Jason hurts me.


	6. Catherine Todd

#### October 07, 2016  
20:45  
Closer to Magdala, Ethiopia

When Dick finally meets up with Jason, sun hanging above the distant horizon and casting long shadows across the tent city of the refugee camp, last truck of the convoy kicking up plumes of dust as it rumbles out of and away from the aid station, he is quiet. 

Unusually quiet. Jason picks up on this. 

“You okay?” the younger boy asks like he wasn’t the one who just met up with his long-lost birth mom. Jason has been buzzing with excitement ever since leaving Sheila’s tent with the promise to return the next morning and as happy as Dick is for him, he can’t help but feel like everything is passing by him too quickly. Too fast. 

“Of course,” Dick says, managing what almost feels like a genuine smile. He pulls Jason into a side hug and to the older boy’s surprise, Jason lets him. 

“Sorry about just ditching you today,” Jason says, a thread of guilt leaking into his voice. Dick glances over surprised. 

“What? It’s fine,” Dick says. “I actually got to help out a little,” Dick shrugs. “It was – it was good,” he murmurs the last part, thinking that the words are inadequate. ‘Good’ wasn’t really how he would describe the experience, but it was all he could think to say. 

Jason glances over, seeming to understand his tone. “What did you do?” he asks. 

“I helped hand out food,” Dick shrugs. It didn’t seem like much. In fact, it wasn’t much, thinking back to the lines and lines of emaciated people, and more, he knew, that would arrive at the camp nearly daily, fleeing famine and other horrors. 

Jason looks thoughtful as well. “It’s pretty bad out here,” he says after a moment. All Dick can do is nod. Finally, he forces himself to shrug off the thoughts. 

“I’ll make Bruce write another check for the relief efforts,” he says. 

Jason glances at him, eyebrow raised quizzically. “You really think that will help?” 

Dick glances over. “No. But it can’t hurt.” 

The pair falls into a silence for the rest of the drive back to their hotel, on the outskirts of Magdala, and hold the silence until they make their way all the way to the hotel room and Dick collapses on the bed, exhausted. 

Jason is frozen by the door. 

Dick glances over at him, sitting up in worry. He’s wanted to ask Jason all evening how it went with Sheila, but he was walking a fine line, not wanting to push on something that could be a sensitive topic. Jason had _seemed_ fine. Hell, better than fine. He’d seemed _happy_. So, Dick figured that if Jason wanted to tell him he would. Now, he was second guessing everything – worry spiking in his chest like – 

“I told her,” Jason says quietly, and Dick’s racing thoughts skid to a halt as he tries to make sense of the words. Confusion must show on his face because Jason finally sighs and sits down on the corner of the bed, shoulders tense like he expects a rebuke, and says, without looking over, “I told She – my mom about Robin.” 

Dick’s breath catches. He sits up and scoots over so he’s sitting next to Jason as the foot of the bed. He can feel the tension of the younger boy’s body vibrating off him. 

“Well,” he starts slowly. “That’s your decision, Jason,” he says. 

Jason whips his head around to Dick, eyes wide with shock. 

“You’re not mad?” Jason asks, incredulous. Confusion ripples across Dick’s face. 

“Mad?” Dick repeats. Should he be mad? Maybe. Technically, Jason has likely just given away _his_ secret identity as well. Bruce’s secret identity. Hell, this is one of the first rules that Bruce drove into Dick’s brain. He probably _should_ be mad. 

But . . . he just really couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. Jason looks so vulnerable and Dick’s just so tired. And Dick tries to think what he would do, if it was _his_ mom, but the thought is just so weird to him, so foreign, that he can’t even imagine what Jason must be feeling. So, he tells Jason as much. 

Tension eases from the younger boy’s shoulders and he stares ahead thoughtfully. Dick’s trying to think of a way to ask how Sheila took it without making it sound like he’s fishing for information about the security of their secret identities when Jason speaks again. 

“I can’t stop thinking about how Catherine would have reacted,” he says finally. Dick glances over in surprise. Jason twists his fingers together in his lap. 

Dick is quiet for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Honestly, he isn’t sure Jason _wants_ a response. The younger boy is still staring straight ahead like Dick isn’t even in the room and the longer they sit there, the longer the silence stretches, the harder it is for Dick to think of anything to say. Finally, Jason glances over at him, a strange smile on his face. 

“I think she would have been pissed,” he says. A small laugh bubbles out of Dick and Jason’s smile widens. 

“What makes you think that?” Dick asks finally, settling into the conversation. Jason rolls his eyes. 

“You’ve heard of those moms that like, bubble wrap their kids?” he asks rhetorically. “Catherine was like but _way_ worse.” Jason is smiling at the memory. 

“One time, I wanted to go skateboarding with some kids on the block, but she wouldn’t let me go unless I wore all the necessary pads and protective gear,” Jason rolls his eyes. “Except we couldn’t afford any of that shit, so she tried to make her own pads with strips of cardboard and duct tape.” Jason faces Dick now with a serious expression on his face. “Dick, I looked like someone tossed me in a dumpster and some things just _stuck_.” 

Dick laughs. “So, I guess you never went skateboarding, then?” he teases, smiling. Jason glances over and gives him a sly smile. That’s Robin’s smile. 

“Well I certainly never _asked_ to go skateboarding again,” Jason says. Dick rolls his eyes. 

It’s quiet in the room for a while before Dick works up the courage to say, “so how did Sheila take it,” voice even. 

Jason just shrugs. “She took it well. I’m pretty tired though Dick. We have to wake up early if we want to catch the convoy in.” There’s something there but Jason is already turning away to get ready for bed and Dick feels the moment slip between his fingers. 

Maybe he should push, but Dick isn’t sure what he would say. What would be taken as well-meaning advice and what would be taken as a rebuke. 

So instead, he just tells Jason to get some rest, and he goes to sleep. 

* * *

Dick isn’t sure what wakes him up at – god, the clock in the hotel room blinks 1:04am at him – but his mind stirs to consciousness with an ominous feeling in the back of his mouth. At first, he thinks it must be jetlag, which would be completely fair considering the sheer amount of travel Dick has done in the past week. He’s pretty sure he was on another planet five days ago. But then, an almost inaudible shuffle at the outer-facing wall in the room has Dick sitting bolt upright in bed. 

Jason freezes halfway through prying open the hotel window. He’s outfitted in his Robin gear. 

Dick blinks. “Good morning,” he says casually watching Jason’s shoulders droop as he realizes he’s been caught. Dick’s head is spinning. The only thing he can think of is that Bruce called to ask for help – which really shows how sleep deprived Dick is right now that _that_ would be his first thought – but he can’t figure out why Jason didn’t wake him up. 

“Er, morning Dick,” Jason says, and the tone clicks something in Dick’s sleep addled brain. 

“Were you . . . sneaking out?” he asks stupidly because, _of course_ he was. It’s a stupid question with Jason fully clothed and partially out a window. What Dick really wants to know is _why_ Jason is sneaking out. Luckily, that’s the question the younger boy answers. 

“Listen, Dick, please. Before you say anything,” Jason starts, and Dick just raises an eyebrow expectantly. “Sheila said there was a problem with the shipments, that someone was embezzling money. I’m not doing anything dangerous; I swear. I just need to get a look at the shipping records and then I’m coming right back.” 

Dick stares at Jason and there are so many questions running through his brain right now but the only one that comes out is, “how are you planning on getting back to the camp?” 

Jason gives him a smile and lets something small and silver slip and dangle from his hand. It’s a key. “I palmed it from the convoy driver when we got back,” he says a little guilty but mostly proud. Dick just stares at Jason inscrutably. 

“Jason – “ he starts but Jason cuts him off. 

“Someone’s embezzling from a non-profit relief organization, Dick,” Jason says, irritation seeping into his voice now. “I need to check this out.” 

Dick swings his legs off the bed. “Okay,” he says because Jason is at least half right and the thought of someone stealing from the camp that still haunts his dreams is enough to make Dick’s stomach twist. “Give me a minute and I’ll come with you.” 

Jason flinches backward. “What, no,” he snaps and Dick freezes. He narrows his eyes. 

“Jason, I have my Nightwing gear, just give me a few minutes,” he says. 

Jason sets his jaw stubbornly. “Come on, Dick. Even I can handle this by myself. I’m just looking at papers. I can read now and everything.” 

“I’m not saying you can’t handle this on your own,” Dick starts. Jason snorts. 

“But that’s what you’re saying, right?” he cuts in. 

Dick grinds his teeth in frustration. God, why did Jason make everything so _difficult_? “That’s not – “ he snaps but cuts himself off. He takes a breath. “We’re in unfamiliar territory, Jason. You shouldn’t investigate something without back-up,” he says reasonably. When Jason turns away, frustration still mounting on his face, Dick gives pause. There was something else going on here. 

It only takes Dick another second to put it together. “Sheila _asked_ you to investigate, didn’t she?” His voice is low and careful but Jason tenses at the words. 

“She’s meeting me there tonight. She can get into the file room,” Jason’s voice has taken on a desperate tone and Dick suddenly feels completely out of his depth for dealing with this. “I won’t be alone, she’ll be there. She asked _me_ to help her and Dick – “ Jason pauses, searching for the right words. “Dick, I really want to do this for her. Please?” 

Fuck. Dick runs his hands through his hair. He isn’t quite sure where he stands anymore. What right does he have to stop Jason from getting close to his mother? Jason wanted to do this alone and, shit, _could_ Dick even stop him? Should he? Dick leaves his face in his hands for another split second, his gut and his head and his heart all telling him different things. Bruce should be here. Dick wasn’t qualified to handle this, and everything would just be so much better if Bruce were here. 

“Okay,” Dick says finally into his palms. 

“But – wait,” Jason stops. “Okay?” he asks and the hope and relief in his voice does little to assuage the guilt pooling in Dick’s chest. 

Dick looks up. “Okay,” he repeats, and the words feel wrong on his tongue. 

Jason looks at him doubtfully. “You’ll let me do this? You promise not to follow me?” Jason asks and Dick’s stomach drops at the question. 

“I promise,” he says because Jason’s eyes light up when Dick does, and he can’t trust his own feelings right now. He has to trust Jason. 

“I won’t be long, I swear,” Jason says as he pulls the window open and Dick has to root himself to the bed to stop from walking over and slamming it shut before Jason can slide out. Dick’s mouth feels dry and he physically cannot form any more words. Jason shoots him a grin on his way out. 

“Be right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update because I'm trying to finish up editing this story before I do Camp NaNo WriMo in April, which definitely _won't_ happen, but the intent is there. So hopefully the updates will come out a little quicker than usual! Hopefully. Maybe. Possibly. We'll see.


	7. The Joker

#### October 08, 2016  
02:18  
Anywhere But Here, Ethiopia

There was a time, when Dick had just barely become Robin, was young enough that criminals’ eyes still widened and there was a split second of hesitation before the first punch was thrown. When he was still new enough to the Gotham underworld, Robin was still new enough to the Gotham underworld, where criminals were surprised to see a child fighting in bright colors to the backdrop of a black cape. 

He and Bruce were looking into a series of missing person cases, young girls, including one who had been in Dick’s class, a pretty brunette whose name he couldn’t even remember. He managed to get into enough trouble at school in order to spend the entire day outside the Principal’s office, listening through the door as the girl’s friends and classmates recounted their last memories of her to the police. He got a lead, following her best friend after school to a fake radio company giving away headphones – only some of them led a carefully selected group of girls to an abandoned warehouse at the docks. It was always abandoned warehouses wasn’t it? 

Bruce wasn’t there, and the lead was tenuous enough that he was able to convince Alfred that he could check it out on his own – that it was safe. Low risk. 

It was a lie. Alfred knew it was a lie. 

But Dick wanted to solve the case. Alone. 

And the butler let him go. 

Dick managed to fight off goons with far more fire power than he had been prepared for, he’s sure he spit out a few fantastic puns, Dick would swear there was someone who called themselves _‘Dormouse’_ involved, and at one point he undoubtedly ended up in the rafters. All the same, he tracked down the Hatter in the middle of a human trafficking deal, transporting the girls on the same damn fancy boat where Bruce Wayne himself was having his dinner party, and Dick did it. He arrested the Hatter, detained the human traffickers, saved the girls and he even made it back to the Cave before Bruce was home for patrol. 

And he always wondered why Alfred let him do it. Let Dick run off when Dick was so sure at the time that Alfred was still on the fence about whether or not he should even be in the boots and cape. And yet, he let Dick run off – alone – to take down what was undoubtably an extremely dangerous human trafficking ring. 

He remembers Alfred defending himself to Bruce in the Cave later. 

_“The boy sought only to prove his worth to you and justify your confidence in him.”_

And shit. Alfred was right. Alfred is _always_ right. That was what Dick was doing, even if he wasn’t quite sure why he was so adamant that he had to do it at the time. 

And isn’t that exactly what Jason is doing now? 

So, Dick was right, letting Jason go alone. 

_“You – you’re just like him!”_

Bruce would have _never_ let Dick take down a human trafficking ring on his own back then. And even now, sure, Dick chaffed at the control and restrictions and the hypervigilance, but that was because this job they did was _dangerous_. Hell, he had to hide a sprained ankle from Hatter for _days_ before Bruce finally pulled him aside and told him he’d been wrapping his foot wrong. 

Dick had been testing Bruce’s limits since the day he pulled on that leotard and, on the cusp of seventeen, Dick shouldn’t have been surprised that it finally blew up in his face – and Bruce’s. As hurt as Dick still was at the firing and at the adoption and the stupid attempts to exert any form of control of Dick’s life, he knew, even if he didn’t like to admit it, that Bruce cared about him. 

_“I’m proud of you . . . Robin.”_

Bruce had said after everything that day. He was _undoubtably_ irritated that Dick hadn’t alerted him as soon as he got the lead on the missing girls, he was _definitely_ scared that Dick had been hurt beyond the sprained ankle, and he had come back to the Cave _already_ mad that Alfred had been a willing participant. . . 

_He had come back_ already _mad_. Dick – Dick _watched_ Bruce walk into the house. He had been with Alfred the entire time after he freed the girls. Bruce . . . _Bruce already knew_. 

And Alfred _knew_ that Bruce already knew. Of course, he had. There was only one person who could have told Bruce before he came back to the Cave – likely _long before_ he came back to the Cave. 

Which means the entire time that Bruce Wayne was dining and drinking on the deck of that ship he was completely aware that Dick was beating up human traffickers on the lower levels by himself? No way. 

Dick has a flash on that day. In the catacombs on the ship, praying for more time to take out the Hatter and his men and thanking whatever god he could that the ship had miraculously stalled. 

Dick stands up from the bed he was sitting on. That son of a bitch. Bruce stalled that boat for him. Six years later and Dick honestly wants to laugh at his stupidity. How had he not put that together before? Of course, Bruce stalled the damn boat. Bruce was _always_ there. . . 

Dick glances at the window. 

He shouldn’t have made that promise to Jason. Maybe then this wouldn’t feel like a betrayal. Dick grabs his bag and slips on his Nightwing costume. He’s wasted too much time already. 

* * *

Getting back to the aid outpost was far less difficult that Dick had assumed. The cars that ran the convoys back and forth had little guard in the dead of night and were old, likely military surplus from years back, and thus easy enough to hotwire. 

When Dick gets within a few hundred yards of the camp he sees a second jeep parked just beneath the crest of a sand dune. Smart. Jason hadn’t wanted to alert any of the workers at the camp to his presence. Dick follows suit. 

He’s just here to make sure everything is okay. That Jason is okay. Safe. Dick is simply playing a background role, like Bruce had with him all those years ago, at a time that Dick was far younger and less experienced than Jason is now. _Yeah and what background role do you need to play while Jason looks over shipping documents?_ A biting sarcastic voice that sounds suspiciously like Jason asks in his head. _Gonna protect him from a paper cut?_

Jason’s going to be so pissed at him. Even if the younger boy doesn’t spot Dick while he’s snooping about in the shadows there’s no way Jason is going to miss the tire tracks Dick’s truck made on the way out here. 

Maybe the wind would pick up. Suddenly. Right after Dick leaves and just before Jason travels back. 

Dick has no idea where the records are kept, but he can see the lights on in a small structure not far from the main base, so he heads in that direction. There should be more guards out, shouldn’t there? Dick isn’t usually one to complain about a job being easy, but the absolute stillness of the camps puts the Bat part of Dick’s brain on edge – more so than it was before – and he’s starting to get an itching feeling beneath his skin that makes his stomach bubble with unease. Something is . . . wrong. 

Dick pulls closer to the building, staying hidden behind the row of trucks along the perimeter of the building. As he gets closer, he can see fully loaded trailers with wooden crates hidden beneath dark tarps – the building must be a loading station for the medical supplies. At the sight of shadows moving close to the door inside, Dick crouches behind one of the tires nearby. Whoever is coming out – Sheila or Jason – he doesn’t want to take any chances. Dick peers around the side of the vehicle. 

A figure is exiting the building, too tall to be Jason, and walking deliriously, like he’s drunk. He has an object slung over his shoulder that takes a second for Dick to recognize. It almost looks like a crowbar. 

And then, in the moonlight, a glimpse of green hair and a pale face, and Dick’s breath catches. His blood runs cold. 

No. That’s impossible. He’s imagining things. There is no way he could be . . . _here_. Bruce was. . . 

He couldn’t. 

A maniacal laugh pierces the night and if Dick’s veins were icy before he was frozen now. 

The Joker. 

The rational part of Dick’s brain is still insisting that it isn’t possible because what the hell would the Joker be doing in Ethiopia of all places, but his eyes are screaming back that he’s here, he’s right _here_. 

And then the rational part of Dick’s brain shuts off because he’s _here_. And where the hell is Jason? 

Dick barely takes notice when the Joker starts driving away in one of the trailer cars, crates of – well, _something_ in the back. He doesn’t flinch as the Joker shoots the last two of his henchmen pointblank when they try to follow him into the truck. He pays no attention at all to the direction the Joker drives off in. 

Some other part of Dick’s brain is making decisions for him and he’s so thankful for it because he’s running now, up to the front of the loading station, eyes snagging on the large doubles doors almost the same second he reaches and out and yanks on them, brain still sluggishly three steps behind him, and the doors _don’t move_. 

“It’s locked, Jason,” Dick hears on the other side and something inside him just _snaps_. There’s a crowbar covered in blood a few feet away from him. Dick doesn’t want to think about whose blood it is. 

He picks it up, wedging it between the small gap in between door and lock and he throws all his strength in to wrenching them apart. 

The doors pop free. 

There’s a blond woman Dick knows he should care more about at this moment standing near the doorway, helping a broken figure stand. Her head snaps to the door as Dick wrenches it open. 

Jason’s head jerks up as well and Dick tries not to let the relief that floods his body – at seeing Jason standing (sort of), aware (at least), _alive_ (thank god)– completely numb his limbs. 

Jason’s thin pained smile a moment later, the utter and desperate relief in his eyes, are enough to let the adrenaline flow back through Dick body and he rushes over, putting an arm around Jason’s waist and supporting him from the other side. 

“Dick,” Jason says, voice breathy and tight. _Punctured lung_ , part of Dick diagnosis dispassionately. Dick opens his mouth to tell his to shut up, conserve his breath, _stop talking_ , but then Jason says, emphatically, “ _bomb_.” 

“Out,” Dick snaps at Sheila, who’s still watching him slightly dazed and he finally catches sight of the red blinking device behind two stacked shipping crates a few feet away from them. It changes from 00:05 to 00:04. 

Dick swings his other hand under Jason knees and manages to shove Sheila in front of him on the way out the door. Sheila must have some survival instincts because she races from the building and dives sideways behind one of the remaining trailers, trying to shield herself from the blast. 

And Dick almost makes it. For a second he thinks he’s going to. 

Instead, he feels himself being thrown forward, the heat of the blast licking his back, before everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another rather quick updated! Hopefully, Dick's thought process here makes sense. I swear I have about six different drafts of what he is thinking about but I ended up loosely adapting a story from Robin: Year One. It's not completely accurate though, I changed certain things to fit my purpose but the quotes used are from Issue #1. 
> 
> One more chapter!! Yay!


	8. Bruce Wayne

#### October 08, 2016  
08:06  
Saint Gabriel's General Hospital, Ethiopia

Bruce Wayne arrives at the hospital two hours after Dick calls him – four hours after the warehouse explodes, six hours after Dick decided to leave that damn hotel room – he’d been in Beirut. Dick thinks he wants to laugh. 

He absolutely does not laugh. 

In fact, he can’t do much of anything. He sits in Jason’s hospital room, awkward on the edge of his chair because the burns on his back don’t allow him to lean back into it. They were minor burns, all things considered. He’d barely been unconscious for a few minutes before Sheila Haywood had been able to rouse him. She helped them change into civilian clothes while she drove both Dick and an unconscious Jason to a hospital in Magdala. 

Then, she’d left. She asked Dick to tell Jason she was sorry. The words feel like lead in his throat. He doesn’t even care where she goes. 

Dick hears Bruce coming down the hall before he sees him. 

“My son – Jason,” Bruce is saying and Dick can hear him get in an argument with one of the nurses, Dick knows it’s the one who didn’t even want him in the room until he just stared at her long enough with enough desperation in his eyes that she relented. The door of the room bursts open and Dick doesn’t glance over at it, just waits until Bruce comes into Dick’s line of vision as he circles the bed to the other side and stands next to it, as if his presence alone will somehow make Jason wake up. 

Dick already heard it all from the doctor, he wonders if Bruce has too. A medically induced coma – enough brain swelling and damage that they aren’t sure when they will able to bring him out of it – or if he will come out of it at all. 

At some point, Bruce pulls up a chair and the two sit there for the longest time, watching the artificial rise and fall of Jason’s chest, and not looking at each other. 

Eventually, Bruce speaks. 

“The doctor said you had burns?” 

Dick just nods. “I’m fine though,” he says and then, because Bruce makes a strange noise, he adds, “on my back, they were minor.” 

And another near hour of silence follows before Bruce speaks again. 

“What were you doing in Ethiopia?” Bruce tone is cool and deliberate, and it sends shivers down Dick’s spine. His mouth is dry, and he tries to think of a way to explain this all that doesn’t simply blame Jason. 

“We – I – “ Dick corrects quickly, finally glancing away from Jason and meeting Bruce’s eyes. They are stormy with worry and something else. Dick is pretty sure it’s anger. 

“You told me he was in New York,” Bruce says, measured tone acting like Dick hadn’t even spoken. He is stiff in his chair and Dick thinks it looks like a coiled spring, ready to blow. 

“Technically, I just said he was with me,” Dick says weakly and Bruce finally jumps from his seat. Without thinking, Dick mirrors the motion. 

“You know what I mean!” Bruce snaps loudly and Dick winces back, trying to hold himself steady but just feeling his legs go numb. “You lied to me,” Bruce continues, almost hissing the words. “You said you would watch him and – “ Bruce chokes off suddenly, eyes going wide like he can’t believe what he almost just said. Dick stares back, similarly in shock. 

He knows what Bruce was going to say. What he wanted to say. 

_This is your fault_. 

Dick glances away. Across the room, Bruce runs a hand through his hair, but Dick can no longer look at him. 

“Dick,” Bruce starts, tone much more measured, careful now almost. 

“I haven’t eaten,” Dick cuts in, words rushed, suddenly desperate. If Bruce is going to do something stupid like apologize for yelling at him, he doesn’t want to hear it. “I’m going to grab something from downstairs,” he says and flees the room before Bruce can stop him. 

He doesn’t go back in. He doesn’t even go downstairs. 

Dick stands for a while in the waiting room before picking out a chair in the corner and sinking into it. 

Jason almost _died_. And Dick just _let him go_. And the absolute worst part of it is that Dick knew he was doing the wrong thing when Jason left, and yet he still let him leave, still almost didn’t go after him. If he had just refused to get on the plane with Jason back in Gotham. If he had told Bruce what they were doing – or not allowed Jason to lie to Alfred. If they had just gone to Beirut and maybe even run into Bruce there. If he had noticed that there had been something strange with the way Sheila reacted to Jason being Robin. If he had just insisted on going with him that night or had decided to leave the hotel sooner. The possibilities spin through Dick’s mind. If, if, if. His breath is coming out in short and quick bursts and he places his head in his hands, trying to think through the pounding in his ears. 

“Dick?” A voice asks and Dick’s head snaps up at the familiar sound. 

“Master Richard,” Alfred is rushing toward him quickly. The butler has never looked more his age to Dick, face drawn from worry and pale, but he reaches Dick and pulls him into an embrace. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, frowning as he undoubtably feels the bandages on Dick’s upper back. The burns had barely been noticeable to Dick. 

“Fine. Jason is in room 8B,” he says. Alfred frowns but Dick’s eyes slide past the butler and onto the redhead who followed him in. She stands there, crossing her arms. 

Dick steps forward and he can see Alfred disappear down the hall toward Jason’s room. 

“Are you okay?” Barbara asks, voice monotone. Dick only nods this time. 

She stands there for a moment looking carved from stone. 

Then, she steps forward and shoves him – hard. There are tears in her eyes. 

“What the hell, Dick?” she asks but her voice is soft and breaks at the end. “What the _hell_?” she repeats, tears spilling out of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, a little weakly. Barbara barely hears him. 

“You could have called. I would have come. What were you even doing - ?” she cuts herself off. 

“Jason was looking for his birth mom,” Dick says quietly, exhausted. Barbara freezes. “He found – “ Dick gestures hopelessly. “I don’t know, it’s a long story. It was just . . . “ _a coincidence_ , he wants to say but he can’t force the words out. They sound too much like an excuse and he had _known_ that there was something wrong. He’d just let it happen anyways. 

Barbara closes her eyes. “I’m mad right now,” she says after a moment and then she opens them. “But can we go see Jason?” she asks. Dick nods. 

He doesn’t ask her what she told her dad in order to come out here. Doesn’t ask her who told her or how she even knew to come. He just follows her into Jason’s room and hangs near the back as she approaches his bed. 

Bruce has given up his chair for Alfred and the two are talking in low tones as Barbara enters. They are talking about transferring Jason back to Gotham now that he is stable, and Barbara adds something to the conversation, but Dick doesn’t really listen. His lets his gaze drag across the room, but it seems to land everywhere except the bed pushed against the back wall. 

Eventually, Bruce comes over and asks Dick if he wants to go to the hotel with Alfred and Barbara – they wouldn’t be moving Jason until the following day – but Dick just shakes his head mutely. He thinks Bruce might insists for a moment but the older man just sighs. Dick can’t even think about going to a hotel, about leaving the room Jason is in, without getting sick to his stomach. He can’t leave the younger boy alone again. 

But Dick also can’t look. 

He can’t look at Jason’s too still body and bruised face. Can’t listen to the beep of his heart monitor or smell the antiseptic that scrubs every surface of that damn room. He can’t watch Alfred’s silent tears Barbara’s stony silence. He can’t listen to Jason’s artificial breath. Can’t sit and wonder when – if – his brother is ever going to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!
> 
> Okay, like what a downer note to end on, amiright? But I've already written a story that occurs after this where a lot things get addressed, and a lot of things don't. For instance, I don't think Bruce was actually going to say this was Dick's fault. I think that was just Dick projecting - he obviously feels really guilty about the whole thing and everyone is very emotional right now because they don't know whether Jason will live or not. Rest assured, however, I will not be putting this up for a vote. Jason is alive. For more details, please read [These Were Their Crimes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/21667369). Dick and Bruce's relationship is so complicated and I messed it up even more for this AU with this guilt and blame thing about Jason. I think both blame themselves pretty heavily, which is ironic, because Jason will also think it's his fault. This whole family clearly needs therapy.
> 
> Also! Sorry about the delay in updating, I knew I was going to get super behind this month, so I tried to get all the chapters out early, but then I fell behind with this one. I'm swamped with finals for Law School and I was also dumb enough to try to do NaNoWriMo. 
> 
> I have other plans for fics in this universe, so hopefully you guys enjoyed it! I'm really enjoying having fun and writing and posting on here, and thank you all so much for reading and commenting.


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